


A Seperate Path

by spyrosapyro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-16
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:13:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spyrosapyro/pseuds/spyrosapyro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does Severus Snape have it within him to become a better man? A man he can only wish to live as?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sometimes Goodbye is a Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I should be writing Chapter 17. But I had a severe case of writer's block, so I took a break. sue me! Anyway, I hope you like this. It turned out drastically different than I had first intended. It's my first fic that's not snarry, so please don't be too harsh :P  
> anyway, enjoy! and as always, I don't own, the glorious JK Rowling holds all rights to characters, places, etc.

He sat, leaning forward, forearms resting gracefully along the smooth wood of the table in front of him. His hands were steepled together, in the manner he had learned from Dumbledore many years ago. He waited patiently for the rest of the staff to file in.

"Severus," McGonagall greeted with a nod as she took her customary seat to his left. Her hair was pulled back in its usual bun, but the years had worn on her, showing now in the grey shade of her hair and the fine wrinkles adorning the corners of her eyes.

She sat straight as ever, waiting for the staff to settle in before beginning their start of term meeting.

Severus let his mind wander as she prattled on about cheating quills, and the proper disciplinary actions to be taken with unruly students. He had heard the same speech every year for the past twenty of his life; not much had changed. Detentions were still served on evenings and Saturday mornings, and the regulations on anything to do with potions hadn't changed in decades. He needed little else to perform his job.

As she moved on to bi-weekly Hogsmeade trips and scheduling the chaperones, he could barely contain a snort. Why she insisted on his attendance, he couldn't fathom. He had never chaperoned; nor had he, or anyone else, ever wanted him to. Out of habit, he moved to stow his hair behind his ear. He stopped, cursing himself silently. That would be a hard habit to break. He had cut his hair short two months ago, in a desperate attempt to break away from his past. He instead used his raised hand to stifle a yawn.

He thought back to the two years he had spent away from teaching. After the war, he thought he might like to retire early, having already worked a lifetimes worth in his mere thirty six years. He had gone home to Spinner's End, and busied himself with potions journals and conventions. But he eventually grew bored, and ultimately missed stalking through the halls, scaring children and deducting points. It held the strangest thrill, which he chalked up to his years in service to the Dark Lord. He scowled, cutting off that train of thought before it even started.

He sighed quietly, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow impatiently, ever the image of condescension. He smirked as he noticed a few younger teachers shift, glancing uneasily in his direction before looking away quickly; his reputation certainly hadn't tarnished. He supposed he should let the new teachers pay attention to the Headmistress, as they would actually need the information. Than again, they were just as bad as first years. Hell, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher didn't even bother showing himself. Severus scowled unhappily, chewing the inside of his cheek.

The meeting came to a close with a final notice on class schedules, and they were released. Severus collected his things slowly, in no hurry to get back down to the dungeons and watch over another batch of simmering potions.  
McGonagall cast a sideways glance at him as she stood to leave. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but instead just shook her head sadly and walked away.

He stood finally, following her out.

"Professor! I'm so sorry!" a voice called out, as a young woman stopped in front of McGonagall. Snape hesitated in the doorway.

"Please, dear, it's Minerva,"

"Thank you. I'm so sorry I'm late, there was an emergency at the Ministry, father needed help with some possessed tea pots being sold at a muggle shop, and all the Aurors were out," the girl explained quickly.

"I quite understand. Did you get it under control?" Minerva asked, a slight tone of worry to her voice. Even though the war had ended, the Auror department had stayed plenty busy.

"Yes, although the spell they used was nothing I'd seen before. Took longer than I thought to sort it all out," the woman sighed tiredly. "Anyway, what did I miss? Everything?" she asked, guilt clear in her voice again.

Her voice sounded familiar, but older than he recalled. Severus had taught her, he was sure of it. But he had taught many young witches over the years, it was impossible to differentiate which of his ex-pupils it may be.

"Meet me in my office once you're settled in and I'll give you a quick run down," McGonagall told her, already starting to walk away.

"Thank you," the woman sighed, sounding relieved.

Snape chose then to come out of the empty classroom, not liking the idea of being caught lurking in a doorway, no matter who this new Professor was.

"Oh! Professor!" The woman turned to face him, cheeks blushing ever so slightly. Her bold, brown eyes looked directly at him, her flaming red hair falling in waves around her shoulders.

"Mrs. Weasley," he greeted. She looked nothing like how she had when she had been his student. Her cheek bones were well defined, her nose straight and petite, and her warm eyes were round and bright.

She looked around awkwardly, not knowing quite where they stood with each other.

"Do you need help setting up your classroom?" he asked, surprising them both.

"Yes," she said hesitantly, as if weighing her need against the possibility of spending a prolonged period of time with the dour Potions Master.

Severus didn't blame her. He wouldn't particularly want to spend time with himself either. And he wasn't sure exactly what had possessed him to offer his time anyway. He wasn't excited to return to brewing the simple medicinal potions Poppy needed, that was true enough, but he would almost rather spend a week doing that than spend the next two hours helping a Weasley unpack.

He cursed himself silently, unable to take back the offer now that it had been made.

She looked up, straightening her back and looking him right in the eyes.

"I would love some help. Thank you," she smiled serenely. "This way," she waved at him to follow her, and grumbling under his breath, he followed reluctantly. What had he gotten himself into now?

He followed her down the familiar passages until they came to a stop in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.  
"Everything should be in here already," she said, unlocking the door and making her way inside. "Yes, great. We just need to find a place to put it all,"

She stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the classroom. She squinted her eyes at the back corner, and the motion sent a pang through Severus. She looked like someone else, when she stood like that. He couldn't pin point exactly what had happened to her features, or who he was thinking of.

He cast the thoughts aside and shook himself, not quite sure why he was acting so erratically this morning. His solitude must have been worse than he had originally thought, clearly. Why else would he be offering up his valuable time to an ex-student? And a Weasley, no less. He had far more important matters to attend to before the students arrived the next week.  
He sighed, resigning himself to the task ahead. At least it wasn't Potter. He had been dreading meeting the new Dark Arts professor, thinking for sure that Potter had quit his job at the Auror office to instill his ridiculous hero complex into the next generation.

He supposed he could live with the Weasley girl. If he remembered correctly, she was far more bearable (and had a good bit more potential, if he was being honest) than any of her six brothers.

They set to work, unpacking boxes and transfiguring shelves. They worked in silence, only broken by Severus' occasional query as to where she wanted something placed.

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, where have you been the last couple of years?" she asked timidly, not looking up from her box of text books she was currently stacking into neat rows in a shelf near the back of the room.

"I thought I would like some peace and quiet," he answered smoothly, "After a lifetime of spying, I figured I owed myself that much," he wasn't sure why he was answering her question, but he didn't see the harm in it. He figured he would be asked to explain himself sooner or later, anyway. He might as well get used to it.

"Oh. Than why come back to teaching?" She looked at him quizzically, furrowing her brow as she paused in her work.  
"I got bored," he said simply. He looked down at his work then, not wanting to meet her gaze anymore. Something about the young woman troubled him deeply, but he couldn't help but feel connected to her. He decided it was a sense of post-war camaraderie. How he had fallen victim to such a petty emotion was beyond him.

Silence fell upon them again, and they had half the room set up before Severus spoke up.

"Your brothers, what do they do?" he asked, feeling bad for offering to help and then making her suffer through a deafening silence.

"Ron plays for the Canons, he's a Keeper. Married Hermione, she works with Harry. Best friends, they are," she grinned, "They come for dinner all the time. George runs Weasley's Wizard Wheezes still, but he brought in Lee Jordan to help. Percy works with Dad now; he's written a few papers on muggle studies. Bill gave up his job at Gringott's, he helps George design new products; stays close to home. Fleur works from home, to be with the kids mostly. And Charlie's still working in Romania. He does come visit a bit more now, though."

Snape nodded, mulling over what she had told him. That was right, Fred had been lost to the war. He felt like apologizing, but suddenly that didn't seem like enough. The words died in his throat.

"Have you heard from Harry?" she asked softly, as if afraid to broach the subject at all.

"Thankfully, no," he sneered.

She laughed. "I'll let him know to drop _that_ train of thought. He's been thinking of visiting, to thank you in person,"

"Tell him you passed the message along," he said flippantly, trying to avoid a run-in with Potter.

"I'll tell him you're doing well," she said, suddenly sounding unsure of herself. He supposed she couldn't really tell if he was doing well or not.

"Thank you," he said stoically, as he moved on to a box full of lecture notes.

"He keeps insisting our first born's middle name be after you," she said softly, casting a shy glance at him.

He couldn't help but stifle a snort. "Right," he muttered. A somewhat awkward silence settled over them. They kept working.  
Ginny stopped, coming to sit on a desk near him. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, sighing and pulling her hair into a ponytail.

"Hungry?" she asked.

Lunch was another silent affair, both thankful for the excuse that food gave them not to talk. A House Elf named Stella had brought light sandwiches and pumpkin juice.

Severus looked over the young woman before him. She had certainly changed in the few years since the war. She was slightly taller, and had more defined features than she had in her school days. She had filled out, and grown into a slender figure, dipping in at the waist in a graceful manner. She was small, petite, but Severus could tell she was a force to be reckoned with.

Her hair was long and sleek, falling to her shoulder blades now that it had been pulled back. The shade was intimate, familiar somehow, and it made him feel warm. Endearing freckles lined her nose and cheekbones. Her brown eyes were soft and inviting, but intense and bold at the same time. She was unmistakably independent.

He felt a sadness well within him, an unspeakable loss. He clenched his jaw, fighting against the unruly emotion. What had come over him?

"Sir? Is everything okay?" she asked gently, seeing the look on his face.

He fixed his expression, once again restoring the cool mask of indifference he thought he had trained himself so well not to break. He didn't know what to say.

"What is it, Severus?" she asked, worried now.

At the sound of his first name, he flinched. He ran a shaky hand through his short hair. What was so different about this young lady, that he had so little control over himself in her presence?

It hit him suddenly, like a freight train. He closed his eyes momentarily, unbelieving. He thought he had let this go. He couldn't let this effect his professional relationships.

He swallowed heavily, taking a deep breath and collecting himself.

"You just remind me of someone I used to know," he said softly, before he could stop himself. She stilled at the hopelessness to his tone of voice. She had never seen him anything but cruel and unrelenting. She just continued to look at him.

"I have to go. I'm sorry. I have potions to attend to," he said briskly, reclaiming his air of coldness as he swept from the room in a blur of black robes.

He stopped in the hallway outside the classroom, leaning against the wall and breathing heavily. He closed his eyes and rested his head back on the cool surface of the stone passage.

 _Lily._

He walked swiftly back to his chambers, working himself into a formidable rage and slamming the door behind him. He hadn't been gripped with any amount of emotion in years. He had been able to suppress it, albeit with varying degrees of success. But he had never been so out of control before. He had never let it consume himself, sway his decisions. Damn the Weasley girl.  
She had even ended up marrying _his_ son; his carbon copy, born twenty years later to haunt Severus in every way possible. It was his worst nightmare, all over again. And to top it all off, they were planning on naming their son after him. He wanted to be sick.

Damn her. Damn them both.

But it wasn't her fault, he knew. The thought of Lily drove ice cold spikes into his heart still.

That was partly the reason he had despised the trio so much from the minute they stepped into the castle. Harry, with her eyes; Ron, with her hair; and Hermione, the smart muggleborn. It had been too much.

He sat on the edge of his bed, cradling his head in his hands. He couldn't live like this anymore. But what did he think he deserved? He had fallen off the path, chosen wrong. He was sick, a shallow shell of a man, undeserving of anything. He tortured and yelled for pleasure. There were things in his past that made him cringe still to this day. Things he had craved, enjoyed even. He deserved this cursed half-life he had been dealt.

But he couldn't help but long for more.

How had he let her slip through his fingers like that? If only he had known, he could have saved her, he could have given her the life she deserved. This new wave of torment hit him solidly in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and wracking his whole body with bone crushing sobs.  
He couldn't let her go; he had been delusional. After all these years, he couldn't just let her go. She was all he had ever had, all he had ever wanted. And she was ripped from him. He would never be whole again, and he deserved this misery.

He had lived for her; lived for that stupid wretch of a son, just so he could do some semblance of right by Lily. So he could feel human again, and not drown in this remorse and guilt.

What a fool he had been to think it might actually work.

He grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey and settled in, ready to piss the rest of his night away.


	2. Starting Over

He didn't remember falling asleep. He only knew that now he was waking up. He stretched lazily, yawning. He felt...different. He didn't have the normal aches and pains that usually plagued him upon waking. Perhaps he was too hungover, or possibly still drunk. He scratched his head, remembering a vague dream. His hair seemed different, too. Slightly shorter, almost. Softer, thicker. He scowled. The thought was ludicrous. He instead focused on the dream.

He had spoken to Dumbledore, though the old man had looked more like when Snape had first been employed. They had been at King's Cross, or somewhere like it, he thought, but it seemed different; clean. He thought hard as to what they had spoken about. Death. Redemption. A second chance. To be able to choose differently; a path.

He shook his head, clearing away the thoughts. That was the last time he ever drank before bed. But the familiar headache that accompanied a hangover was missing, too. He shrugged, sitting up fully in his bed.

Taking in his surroundings for the first time, he couldn't help but feel baffled. He was in a small four poster, with all the curtains drawn tight. The hospital wing? No, that couldn't be right. The blanket was a deep emerald, the curtains matching but adorned with fine silver threads woven into them.

It looked eerily similar to the bed he had occupied during his years as a student. He slowly swung his legs over the side and drew back the curtain, holding his breath. He was in the Slytherin dormitories. Now that was _really_ strange. He thought for sure he had been alone in his private quarters.

He got up, and wobbled a little. He felt off balance. Like he was in a different body. His brow furrowed as he took in the full chests and messy beds of the dormitory. Students didn't get back for another week. What in Merlin's name was going on?

He walked to the bathroom, seeking his reflection. He stopped dead in front of the mirror, gasping. He was looking at himself, of course, but it wasn't the same person who had fallen asleep the night before. He was fifteen years old again.

He brought a hand up and stroked the side of his cheek, pulled at his hair. He was dreaming, surely. But was it normal to have all of his old memories in a dream? To be the same cynical, hardened man that he was? And didn't dreams follow some semblance of a plot? Didn't you always _go_ , even if you didn't quite understand where or why? He had absolutely no idea what to do now. What was happening?

He left the bathroom, not wanting to gaze upon his strange reflection any longer. He got quickly dressed, deciding to go walk the grounds. He remembered that clearing his head as a boy. He would walk the grounds with Lily.

 _Lily!_ She would be here. She would be alive!

He ran through the common room, not paying attention to anything in his way. He flung open the door, and nearly tore the tapestry it was hidden behind in his haste. He had one thought on his mind: find Lily.

He slowed his pace as he rounded the corner to the main hallway, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. He certainly couldn't act how he normally would have, striding through the corridor like a bad storm and deducting house points.

As he rounded the corner to the entrance hall, he quite literally ran into Dumbledore.

"Sir," he breathed, "I'm sorry,"

"It's quite alright, Mr. Snape," Dumbledore smiled down at him, "Did you sleep well?" he asked suddenly, a twinkle in his eye. What a curious thing to ask a wandering student.

"Er...yes," Severus answered quickly, wanting to excuse himself and find Lily.

"Yes, dreams can often reveal quite a lot about our lives, if you are clever enough to listen to the people within them," he said then, catching Snape's attention.

His vague dream came back to him, standing with Dumbledore on the platform. Was he trying to say that that had been the dream, and this wasn't? Was his whole life a dream, than?

"I often feel it is easier not to question them, however, and take what gifts they have to offer," he continued. If he noticed Severus' internal struggles, he didn't comment on them.

The twinkle in his eye was disturbing Severus. What did he mean? He had known Albus long enough to know that he always had something up his sleeve; always knew more than he would let on. Or did he know him at all?

Snape decided that it didn't matter, if it was a dream, so be it. He would enjoy it until he woke the next morning.

Dumbledore seemed to shake himself, but the twinkle never left his blue eyes. "Yes well, run along now. Don't want to be late. You have your...Dark Arts O.W.L. this morning, if I am correct? Which I believe I am," he added, as if it were a secret between just them. He chuckled, straightening his glasses.

"Er...yes, sir," Snape said, spirits falling. He didn't want to have to sit through an exam the whole dream. He walked past the man, making his way towards the Great Hall.

"Oh, and Severus," Dumbledore said, surprising Snape by addressing him by his first name. He hadn't done that until well after he had graduated. "Do think carefully," he said, the tone in his voice implying he meant something deeper than on his exam.

Severus nodded slightly, before turning again and continuing on his way.

He finished in record time, having already dreamed a lifetime to do with the Dark Arts. He knew it like the back of his hand. But than again, how could he have dreamed up magic he had never even heard of? At the age of fifteen he had had no idea what a horcrux was, let alone how to make or destroy one. He hadn't even heard the word muttered in the hallways, the classrooms. It wasn't a dream, he thought decidedly. Definitely not. But than what was this?

As the exam drew to a close, he got up quickly and left the hall, meandering towards the grounds as he pondered the implications of this experience. What was he meant to do? Was he meant to do anything, to learn anything? And what of his body back in his private quarters? What happened to Professor Severus Snape, feared Potions Master and ex-spy, war hero? Did he ever even exist anymore?  
He looked up suddenly and found himself on the edge of the lake. He remembered clearly the incident underneath the beech tree, right after the O.W.L. he had just taken. Sure enough, the four self-proclaimed _marauders_ sat there, grinning and laughing as if nothing could touch them. If only they knew, Severus thought bitterly. That attitude is what got them all killed. This time, he wouldn't let them bully him, he would strike first. Teach them a lesson, once and for all.

It hit Severus all of a sudden. This was salvation, redemption. He had never been a man of faith, but he couldn't deny it as his dream the night prior came barreling back to him.

 _'You've done well, my boy,' Dumbledore said, as he patted Severus on the back. 'Very admirable,'_

 _'Where are we?' Snape asked._

 _'King's Cross,' Dumbledore chuckled, the knowing look returning to his eyes as if he held a precious secret 'It seems a most...popular destination,'_

 _'Why are we here?'_

 _'You tell me,' the old man said softly, almost sadly. He looked at Snape, the twinkle in his eye dimming somewhat with whatever his new train of thought was._

 _Suddenly, looking into his blue eyes, he knew. He had died. He knew it like he knew the properties of a Bezoar._

 _'What now?' he asked, surprising himself with the ease in which he accepted this news. After all, he had just died. But than again, he reasoned, he hadn't had much to live for anymore. His life wasn't one he would choose for himself, by any means._

 _'Well, that is entirely up to you now, isn't it?' Dumbledore said, the damned twinkle back in his eyes, 'It is _your_ redemption, Severus. I have never told you what to choose for yourself; I simply gave you the options. Choose how to save yourself; your soul. Choose to be happy. After all, what you chose before has gotten you here, better make the most of it, no?'_

That was when Snape had awoken, in his bed in the dungeons. When he had awoken, fifteen years old again. Friends with Lily, who was as alive as ever.

When he had awoken, on the same day he had ruined his friendship with her. The day he had called her a mudblood, all but shoving her into James Potter's arms.

He straightened, turning to his left, and walking away from the beech tree. He would not be tormented, and he would not do wrong by Lily, whether in anger or not. He would stop hanging out with Avery and Mulciber. He knew now what was important. His past life had taught him that, if nothing else. He would be different.

He solidly turned his back on the beech tree; on the only future he knew of. But he knew enough to know he didn't want to live it twice.  
"Hey," a voice said, as someone caught his elbow and started to walk beside him.

"Lily," he breathed, smiling. She was here, she was alive. And she didn't hate him. He could deal with anything else, as long as Lily was alive. He caught her up in a tight hug, burying his nose in her long hair, cherishing the beat of her heart against his chest.

"Gee, Sev. O.W.L's weren't _that_ long," she teased, hugging him back.

"I'm sorry," he said meaningfully, as he pulled back to look at her. He would never get enough of her eyes, her smile. "So, so sorry,"

"For what?" she asked, confused.

"Everything," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Absolutely everything,"

"Lighten up, Sev. You're creeping me out," she laughed, and he laughed with her.

He would do right this time. He would fight Voldemort, on the side of light. He would use his past life to help the Order. He could be an Auror, even. He would build a life with Lily, and he would never take the Dark Mark.

He would grow up happy, no longer the bitter man he had despised until his dying day. He would live a life in which he deserved Lily. He would be admirable; he would give no one a reason to hate him, especially not Lily. He would not make the same mistakes twice, not even if his life depended on it.

He had a fresh start, a new life. He had been given everything, and he was sure to take advantage of it.

He grabbed Lily's hand as they walked by the lake, laughing. She blushed, but gripped his hand tightly in hers. He smiled, the first true smile in over forty years; or was it a few weeks? He didn't know, and he didn't care.

 _He had Lily._


	3. For the Rest of My Life

As he looked over the frying bacon, he smiled to himself. The years had been good to him.

That day by the lake, he had done right by Lily. He had dropped his Death Eater friends, stopped doing dark magic, and chose to be a better man. He couldn't remember Lily ever looking so skeptical. He also couldn't remember her ever looking happier than when he came through with his promises.

He had been given a second chance.

He had joined the order with Lily on his eighteenth birthday, and taken a post with the Ministry's Department of Mysteries.

When the time came to fight, he stood alongside Dumbledore, never once accused of being a traitor. The War had ended much sooner than before, with no prophecy to set Voldemort about, blowing up families. Sure the prophecy existed, but without Snape being there to overhear it, the Dark Lord was none the wiser. He had attacked early, thinking himself much stronger than he was. It hadn't been easy, but they had won. For some reason, something had changed down the line for Tom as well, as he had only made a single horcrux in Nagini. Easily enough disposed of.

He had friends now, real friends; found in people he had never given a chance before. He was quite close with Sirius Black, and his werewolf mate. James Potter and his wife came around every now and then, and Severus managed to mask his distaste for the man with ease, once thinking maybe he didn't dislike him anymore at all, now that he hadn't taken Lily. Albus was a regular dinner guest as well, often sporting the most ridiculous robes and ever more obscure muggle candies.

Pettigrew had still perished in the war, having joined Voldemort fresh out of school. He was never born to be anything but weak willed, envying the powers of others.

Severus had even managed to sway Lucius into joining the Order, though he didn't fight quite as valiantly as the others. Than again, that had been his exact stance when he had been aligned with Voldemort, as well. Snape thought perhaps it had been his influence that had convinced him to take the Dark Mark in his prior life. Either way, he hoped young Draco had a much more positive future lying ahead of him.

He had even managed to help capture Bellatrix before she tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom, securing not only two of their toughest Aurors, but a loving family for their son to grow up with.

Petunia had still married that battle axe of a man, Vernon. Lily and Petunia were barely on speaking terms, and Severus could tell it bothered her very much, however well she tried to hide it. He had spent nights wondering what exactly he could have done to have changed this bit of his life as well, finally deciding that some things were simply unavoidable. He almost felt bad for their two year old son, Dudley.

He and Lily were married a year after joining the Order, in a small ceremony at the Burrow. It had been strange to see the house as it was intended, before all the additions and kids. Only Bill and Charlie were born at the time, Molly pregnant with Percy.

He kept his hair short, because that's how Lily liked it, and when she had gotten pregnant, he had insisted upon the name: _Harry._  
If anyone from his old life as Potions Master could see him now, they would swear it wasn't the same man. His life had been completely different. No longer was it a tragic story of loss and betrayal; guilt and remorse. He no longer hated himself, his past. He lived a life full of love and trust, family, friends, and most importantly, he felt admirable. He was proud to call himself a father, he didn't feel sorry for his son, and he didn't feel as if little Harry deserved better; for no one could ever love him as much as Severus.

Snape smiled as he cooked breakfast for Lily and Harry, still asleep in their room upstairs. Harry had awoken in the middle of the night, plagued by a nightmare. Severus had gone to his bedside and calmed him, rubbing his back as he gently rocked him in his arms. He brought him back to sleep between himself and his mother, and the boy had slept soundly for the rest of the night.

He had only pajama bottoms on this morning, still reveling slightly in the fact that his skin was smooth and unscarred, with none of the signs of torture and hardships that had been so evident on his old form. He had grown to despise his reflection before; now, he simply _was_. He was in debt to no one. He was free to be who he wanted, live how he wanted; and that was the best feeling in the world.  
He heard soft footsteps from upstairs, and than a rapid set of little feet tearing down the staircase.

Soon, he was joined in the kitchen by his son, racing to see where his dad had gotten off to without him so early in the morning.  
Severus squatted down as the little form drew closer, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He picked up his son and placed him on the counter next to where he was working.

"What's cooking?" Harry asked, looking eagerly into the pan Severus was working with.

"Breakfast," Snape said, chuckling once at the slight frown that appeared on his son's young face.

"I know _that_ ," he complained, as if highly offended, "but what?"

"Pancakes and bacon," Severus answered; heart warming at the way Harry's green eyes lit up, and the smile that broke over his face. He knew it was his favorite, that's partly why he chose to make it. He couldn't help himself when it came to Harry. He had to spoil him. Lily too, for that matter.

"Where's your mum?" Snape asked, flipping a pancake grandly into the air, showing off a bit. He smiled as he watched Harry's eyes track it hawk-like through the air.

"Bathroom," he answered simply, not seeming to care all that much.

"Wanna help?" Severus asked, eyeing the curious young man as he added the now cooked pancake to the others. He cast a quick wandless warming spell over them, grinning slightly as Harry's eyes widened. He had such a fascination with magic already.

"Yes!" Harry said excitedly, wriggling on the counter top. No doubt he thought there was a chance Snape may use more magic. Severus chuckled, shaking his head slightly and handed him a measuring cup.

"Dip that in here and fill it up with the rest of the mix," he said, pointing to his near empty bowl of batter, "and than dump it in the middle of the pan for me,"

Harry set about his task with such seriousness that Snape had to hold in another round of laughter. He ruffled Harry's black hair playfully as he set the cup back in the bowl triumphantly and waited for Snape to flip the pancake.

"Perfect," he praised, taking a spatula and flipping it over.

Harry beamed, satisfied with his work.

"Mommy! I made a pancake!" Harry exclaimed, tugging on Severus' sleeve to help him down. Snape lifted him by the waist and set him on the floor, where he immediately took off towards Lily, only to grab her pant leg and drag her towards the stove.

He looked up meaningfully at Snape, who picked him up again and set him against his hip.

"Look!" he said, pointing proudly to the cooking pancake.

"Very good," Lily laughed, leaning around Harry to kiss Severus lightly on the lips "Good morning,"

"Morning," he said, smiling and putting Harry back down on the floor, "Go sit down, it'll be ready in two minutes,"

Harry rushed off and clambered onto his chair, sitting expectantly at the table.

Severus added the last pancake to the stack and turned the burner off before turning to Lily and pulling her closer to him.

"I love you," he murmured, placing a kiss against her forehead. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear and kissed her once more on the lips.

"I know," she said, eyes warm as she looked at him, "I love you too, Sev"

His heart still flipped at the words.

"Is Sirius coming by today?" he asked as he placed their breakfast on the table.

"He should be here soon, actually. We overslept," Lily glanced at the clock, which read a quarter after ten, "Than again, we've seen him in more embarrassing situations than night clothes," Lily giggled, "So I'm not particularly worried. Remus said he would help me with my lesson plans for this year, what with the new Transfiguration guidelines set by the Ministry," she rolled her eyes.

They ate slowly, happily discussing anything that happened to make it's way across their mind.

When they were done, the doorbell rang, making Harry jump up in excitement.

"Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus!" he exclaimed, climbing down from his perch on his chair.

"You go, I'll take care of the dishes," Lily smiled, grabbing Harry's abandoned plate as she stood. Severus rose with her, planting one more kiss to her lips before following Harry.

He caught him in the foyer, scooping him up mid-stride and carrying him like a football.

"Dad!" he complained, kicking half-heartedly, "Geroff! I wanna see Uncle Sirius!"

Severus set him down and opened the door, barely giving the two men a greeting before they were attacked by Harry. He clung to Sirius' leg in a vice like hug.

"Hey, little man!" Sirius said, picking him up, "Boy, you're getting big!"

Harry giggled, already squirming to get down and see Remus. Sirius put him down and tickled him, eliciting a squeal and beautiful laughter from Harry before he straightened and turned to Snape.

"How's it going, Severus?" Sirius asked, clapping him on the back. "You're looking good," he teased, eyeing up Snape's bare chest.  
Snape chuckled, shrugging off his embarrassment. "Good, thanks. Trying to keep up with this one," he smiled, grabbing Harry on his way by and pulling him against his leg. Harry didn't protest this time, he just clung to Snape's blue plaid pajama pants. "You?"  
"Great! Moony's keeping me in line," he elbowed Remus in the side.

"A great deal harder than you would think," Lupin said, rubbing a hand over his hair, "and that in itself is saying something,"  
Sirius scowled as the two men laughed, muttering something about Gryffindor loyalty.

"Lily's in the kitchen if you want to go on through," Severus nodded down the hall, "I'm gonna get this one dressed,"

The two men disappeared down the hallway, leaving Snape and Harry alone to their own demise. Severus rather enjoyed spending time with Harry, no matter what they happened to be doing. He was always saying the oddest things for a boy of three. It never ceased to amuse him; then again, he supposed, not much had differed in that respect. He simply thought it endearing instead of annoying.

Snape looked down upon the face of the three year old currently clinging to his leg. As the boy looked up at him from underneath his curtain of messy dark hair, green eyes shining, Severus couldn't help but smile down at him. He was thankful he'd still gotten his mothers eyes.

"What?" he asked, pouting slightly as he watched the smile play on the corners of Severus' lips, not liking the idea of missing an unspoken joke.

Severus ruffled his hair.

"Nothing, Harry. It's nothing," he said, still smiling over the smooth, unmarred surface of the boys head. He hoisted him up and rested him on his hip, kissing his forehead in exactly the spot the lightning bolt scar would never appear.

What he was most thankful for, he thought, was knowing that this beautiful, smart, loving young boy would never know the pain and loss of his parallel self. He would not suffer at the hands of those that wanted him dead, would not have to grow up beyond his years. He would be able to live a normal life, a life he deserved. And not only that, but Snape had helped to see it happen.

"I love you, Dad," Harry muttered, resting his head contentedly against Snape's shoulder.

"I love you too, Harry," Severus answered quietly, kissing the top of his head.

Snape held him close, never wanting to let go, and relishing the fact that he never had to.

"I love you too,"


End file.
